Endless Games
by ChurchXC
Summary: Enter a world filled with those who cannot die by mortal means. Enter a world where a battle for supremacy is waged without us even knowing. Enter the world, of the Endless Game.
1. The Watcher

Well guys, contrary to popular belief, I'm not dead! I just… left for a while. A loooong while. Please don't kill me! Anyways, I changed my name. I used to be The Good Within the Darkness, but that's too long to type.

Anyways, I'm back, and with a new fic. Details about my old one will be at the ending AN. Now, this is set up in the Highlander universe, but I am not using any of the orginal Highlander characters, so all of this is mine but the whole Immortal, Game, Watcher thing that we'll get into more latter. And yes, that is my b disclaimer /b for the I entire /I fic.

Now, I'm warning you guys right off, I'm doing this without a beta. ArtemisGirl and I had a bit of a… falling out. And, truth be told, I'm kinda afraid to ask her to be my beta again. Why that is you ask? Well, I don't feel like telling.

* * *

Again. Again. Again a boot heel slammed into the wooden door, the doorframe shaking. Again. With the next kick, his foot burst though to the other side of the door. A gloved hand crept though the door, and unlocked it before drawing his hand back and opening it. The Watcher lowered his Red Sox cap to obscure his face, before entering the house, being hit by a strong, metallic smell. The smell of human blood.

The Watcher cursed as he looked around the room, not expecting anything near what now sat in front of him. No charge had ever before gone this far… until now. The man moved his shoulders uncomfortably underneath his zippered black jacket, before stepping farther into the room.

He was a Watcher, set to observe a certain charge and report on his or her actions to headquarters. They were to watch, but never to interfere. No other man had charges such as the Watchers. For the Watchers, their charges never aged or died, least you took their head, and with it, their power and wisdom. Their charges were those known as Immortals, but only the Watchers and the Immortals themselves knew that they actually existed.

Anyone other then a Watcher would have been instantly drawn to the nearly naked, decapitated man laying on the floor in the middle of the room, beside his own severed head. The Watcher's vision went right past the body, and onto the giant letters smeared on the wall, with what looked like the dead man's own blood.

"THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!" It practically yelled, challenging.

The Watcher looked back down at the decapitated man lying on the floor, and saw the reason he was nearly naked. On his chest was carved yet another message.

"I AM IMMORTAL! I HAVE INSIDE ME BLOOD OF KINGS!" It laughed at him.

The Watcher shook his head. This Immortal wanted to be known… His brown eyes scanned the room, taking in the overturned table, slashed up couch, broken light fixtures, and mostly blood. Each piece of furniture had a message scrawled in the dead man's blood.

His eyes stopped on the only piece of furniture still standing and in good condition. It was a solid oak desk, with bits of paper all over. He walked towards the desk, his boots splashing in puddles of the dead man's blood. Splashes of it went onto his jeans. A miniature tape recorder also sat on the desk. This, the Watcher slipped into his pocket. He bent down, reading the messages scrawled on the paper. He wanted to throw up.

All of the messages were bits of information that could blow the secret about the Immortals forever. One told, in detail, about the Quickening. Another told all about the Gathering, and what would happen there.

The man cursed again as he turned, and walked to the only other door in the room. It was a simple house, only three rooms. The man must have slept on the couch. The Watcher gripped the doorknob, which still had a bit of heat to it. He must have just missed the Immortal who had done this. Cursing, he opened the door into the kitchen.

The kitchen was tagged with the same damming messages in blood, as if to mock him. The refrigerator had been knocked over, and the table had been cut in half. The Watcher sighed, not even looking at the bathroom, knowing what he would have to find there.

He walked back out of the house and into the darkness, leaving bloody footprints behind him. He stopped next to a white Neon sitting outside of the house, and pulled a flip cell phone out of his coat pocket. He dialed a number, before holding the phone next to his ear.

"We have… a bogey…" The Watcher said in a gruff voice.

He nodded as the person on the other end replied. "Understood." He said, closing the cell phone before returning it to his pocket. In its place was a pair of keys. The Watcher walked back to the trunk, sticking the key into it, and opening the trunk. Inside were two extremely large gas cans, which the Watcher lugged out of the trunk, before closing it. He then walked to the driver's side of the car, opened it, and started the engine. He then walked back to the back of the car, and picking up the gas cans, staggering back to the house.

He left on can in the living room, before lugging the other can back to the bathroom. He kicked open the door, preparing himself for the worst. The toilet was broken in half, and the messages were written in a dark brown substance this time. The Watcher didn't even want to think about it, as he splashed gas on the walls and floor of the room, backing out to the kitchen,

He splashed more gas on the walls and floor here, making sure that the messages at least, would burn. He made sure to use the entire gas can, putting some on the door as well. He dropped the gas can in the middle of a puddle of gas, moving back to the living room.

The Watcher pulled a rag from his pocket, and tied it around his head to cover his mouth and nose from the fumes. He then picked up the last gas can, and splashed its contents on everything in the room. The most gas went on the man and the desk. He then threw the can down, and walked out of the house, digging in his pockets for something.

When he exited the house, he found what he was looking for. A cheap, plastic lighter. He backed up from the house, lit the lighter, and gently tossed it in. He then turned on his heel, and ran for his car, as the gas ignited behind him, turning the house into an inferno.

The Watcher jumped into his car, slammed the door shut, and slammed his foot on the gas, turning sharply so he faced the road. He sped away from the house, feeling sick. No Immortal had ever done anything like this… most had never thought of even reviling their secret to outsiders.

The Watcher dug in his pocket again, pulling out the tape recorder. He click it on. A young man's voice wafted out of the tape player, sending chills down the man's spine.

_From the dawn of time we came, moving silently though the centuries, living many secret lives, struggling to reach the time of the Gathering, when the few who remain will battle to the last. No one has ever known we were among you… until now._

* * *

That's it. Man have I been out of the saddle for a long while. I hope you guys like it. Make sure to I review /I . I need to know how to improve.

Oh, and this is just the intro to the fic. The real first chapter will come out later. This is the first Fan Fiction I actually planned the entire thing out before I started to write. Which, brings me to my old Teen Titans fic.

I honestly have no idea where that thing was going. I was just writing what I felt like writing. I just wanted to write. Hopefully I can finish it… but I need to get back into the mindset, and figure out all of the plot.

Well guys, review, don't let the intro fool you, it shall get better, and I hope to see you reading. Later.

§Piro Maikeru§


	2. Game Data Loading

A/N, Rant, whatever you wanna call it will be at the bottom of the page from now on.

* * *

Night is a wondrous time. It brings out some of mankind's most basic feelings. The night could put the fear or God in a man, or pure ecstasy. Ean Farrell was one of the latter.

Ean was a man of average height, and medium build. He liked to take walks after dusk to clear his head, ponder the day's events, and to get back in touch with himself. He hated living having to go into one of New York City's many suburbs to find a little privacy, but it was worth it. The air was much cleaner here, and it was much quieter then that mess of a city. He also found out if you walked near construction sites, there was a great decrease in people as the night progressed.

He sighed, running a hand though his shaggy black hair. There was always a risk of walking alone… especially now, since it was well into the night. He had not gotten out of his shop until late that night, and still wished to walk. Ean shifted his shoulders under his white, closed, trench coat. The hair on his neck prickled. He could feel it… something bad was going to happen. He turned at the fence guarding the construction site, and walked though the gate.

_Alright… I parked a block away from here…_ he thought, running the position of his car though his mind. Or at least he tried, as the Buzz suddenly got much stronger.

Ean eyed the skeleton of what looked to be a hotel in construction. The area he was walking though was being annexed into New York City, and needed places for people to stay. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see into the shadows behind the many I beams. He unlaced his coat, letting it hang open. "Show yourself!" he yelled, in an accent that sounded as if he was from every land, and no land.

Something moved to Ean's right. He turned on his heel, his coat flaring out to show a katana sheath strapped to his dark cargo pants waist. His boots crunched on glass that must have been dropped by some construction worker.

Something leapt from one of the almost completed structures, and into its long shadow. A figure rose, swaying slightly. He stepped forward into the light. It was a man of middle age, dressed in a dark red long sleeve shirt and tight blue jeans. The forearms of his shirt bulged slightly. "Ah…" he smiled, pushing his blond hair back from his face, "So I finally meet Ean Farrell…. The Immortal with the romantic belief about an all loving God…" The man sneered, a scar running from his right brow to cheek twisting it into something more sinister. "That sickens me."

Ean calmly removed his coat, before throwing it off to the side. His black shirt let him blend in with the shadows, all but the words on the front reading 'God in his heaven, all's right with the world' and a three barred cross on the back. Ean sighed, as he brought his right hand to grip the dragon engraved hilt of his katana, his left hand resting on its sheath.

"Thom Al'Mera… one of the most cocky Immortals still alive…" Ean's voice was ice, his eyes narrow, "You have a lot of nerve…"

Thom threw his head back and laughed. "What God in his right mind would make a group of people, one of which could ultimately challenge the God himself! Give it up, 'priest'! It is time to see if there truly is a God!" With that, Thom sprang with surprising quickness at Ean, his long hair making a trail behind him.

Blades on both sides emerged, Ean's from his hip, Thom from his sleeves, two foot and a half long blades emerging from his sleeves. Twin katars met katana with deadly quickness as the two men leaned in, their blades touching. Ean leapt away back from Thom, his katana in front of him.

Thom sneered openly. "So it _is_ true… you do have a Murasumune… a sword made for peace…" Thom laughed again. "Haven't you figured it out?"

Ean cut him off by lunging at Thom, katana slashing to his left. Thom brought up his left fist to counter, and flung it the rest of the way to his left, sending the katana flying. Thom brought his right hand across his body to slash at Ean's torso.

Ean brought his now empty left hand across his own body to catch Thom's right wrist. Before Thom could retaliate with his left, Ean drew his right hand back before slamming it into the center of Thom's chest, opened palm. Thom let out his breath, cushioning the blow, but still flew backwards, and hit the I-beam that was close behind him.

Ean leapt back and to his left, and bent down to pick up his fallen katana. "Peace is needed for advancements to take place… I am keeping that peace from being over run by those such as you." He said, softly, pointing his katana at Thom's fallen figure leaning limply against the I-beam.

Thom picked himself up, a flow of blood emerging from his mouth with each cough. He wiped his mouth with his right sleeve, before glaring at Ean. He then ran at Ean once more, in a fit of rage.

Ean shook his head. "Have you learned nothing throughout these ages?" he asked Thom, as he brought his left hand up to the hilt of his katana, before slanting the blade horizontally in front of his face.

"It is you who have not learned!" Thom cried out in rage, as he shifted to his right, and cut the air with his katar. There was a loud snap, as a wire that Ean had not noticed broke. Lights flooded into Ean's eyes, temporarily blinding him. His right hand, holding the katana dropped, as he covered his eyes with his left. When the lights went out and Ean recovered, he could no longer see Thom.

Ean turned on his heel, raising his katana back in front of him horizontally, meeting the form of Thom, who had launched himself off of the top of one of the buildings. Thom brought both of his katars over his head, before slamming them down at Ean. They locked together with Ean's sword, sending sparks flying.

"Die, die, die, die, die!" Thom screamed, hysteria entering his voice. Ean shifted his weight to his left leg as Thom's feet touched the ground. Ean dropped his right knee, sending Thom off balance. Using that, Ean let go of the katana with his right hand, and turning his left hand, he slashed at Thom, cutting off both his right hand, which he had brought up to try to defend himself, and his head.

The hand landed with a clang as the katar hit rocks spread across the ground. The head rolled across the construction site, blood flowing out of the neck.

Ean stood, and flicked the blood off of his katana, holding it loosely in his left hand. He then reached into the neck of his shirt, and pulled out a tiny, golden three barred cross. He held it up, and recited, "Lord, forgive this man, and welcome him into thy kingdom. He knows not what he haft done. Embrace thy childe with open arms. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen." As he made the sign of the cross, blue mist began to float out of Thom's neck, and began to float towards Ean, the mist surrounded by electricity surging across it.

All at once, the mist turned into tendrils, and lashed onto Ean. Ean lifted his up his arms, his katana falling to the ground.. The tendrils began to seep into his body, the electricity running across his body, before entering it though his mouth or nose. He threw his head back, his mouth moving, but no sound came out. The mist all diapered into Ean, who was dropped onto all fours, pieces of glass cutting his palms.

Slowly and unsteadily, Ean rose to his feet, shaking. But he was not shaking because the mist had harmed him, or caused him pain. He was shaking; for Thom's power had become his own, Thom's knowledge, his own. "The Quickening…" he muttered slowly. The Quickening was what happened when an Immortal was decapitated, the only true way to kill an Immortal. All of that Immortals power and knowledge left him, and entered into the Immortal who had defeated and killed him. Ass such, if the Immortal had killed other Immortals, once he was defeated, you would gain their power and knowledge as well.

Ean bent down to grab Murasumune, before sliding it horizontally across the mouth of his sheath, before sheathing it.

He turned, and walked slowly to the place where his coat lay, getting use to the new power and knowledge that flowed though his veins. He bent down, and picked up his trench coat, before pulling it on to cover his katana. "The Game…" he muttered, "is getting more ridiculous with every passing day…" He had lost more friends, and those who were close to him because of this 'Game'… One should get use to being jumped and attacked, but Ean found it trying.

The sound of far off sirens took Ean out of his daze. He muttered an oath. He should have realized with the noise of the fight, in combination would have awoken one of the people living close by. Construction didn't go on during the night here, and someone must have called the police. He ran, sliding as he neared the gate he had entered, and sprinted into the street, sending dust into the air.

"This always happens in this bloody century!" He muttered angrily to himself as he turned a corner, nearing his black Dodge Charger, a white strip running down its middle. He ran down the street, before pulling his keys out of his coat pocket, and sliding them into the door to unlock it. The sirens grew louder, as he opened the door, and slid into it. He slid behind the wheel, and started it quickly. He then pressed on the accelerator, going at a moderate speed towards the city, and away for the police.

The police skidded around the construction site soon after Ean started cruising away, surrounding the site before getting out of their cars, their weapons drawn. Ean let out a sigh of relief as he blended in with the traffic going into New York City.

He supposed there was one good thing about this the police in this century. They sure as hell kept same fights that would have happened a hundred or so years ago from happening. He leaned back in his seat deep in traffic on his way home.

* * *

Holy crap… I think I'm on time for once…

I set up a schedule this time around… I want to try and get out at least one chapter a week. It… didn't quite work the last time around as some of you may know… And, I think I'm actually on time! Woo!

Anyways… I'm kind of guessing about all the suburbs around New York. Never been there, and I have limited computer time, which I spent researching other things. But, since this is an alternate universe… it _should_ be all right… I hope…

I wrote the entire plot of the second chapter, but I haven't even started on it… So, we'll see how it goes.

Also, this was a lot bigger in my notebook then on MS Word. I need a new notebook so I can figure out closer to reality how large the chapter will be before I sit down to type it. I would not have made the chapter this small originally, but since I already intergraded some of the ideas from this chapter into others… I decided to keep it.

Anyways, remember to review. I need to know how horrible I did, so I can fix it for later chapters. This still stands; this is in an alternate Highlander Universe. None of the characters in the Highlander movies or series will appear, just the ideas about the Game and all things attached to it.

Well, that's it. I hoped you liked the chapter. I forgot how long some of my processes take…

Oh yeah, last note. I'm still beta-less. Since I'm terrified of what my old beta, Artemis Girl may do to me if I contact her, I'mma say this now. I need a beta. E-mail me if you're up to the challenge of fixing my horrible grammar.

§Piro§


	3. Caitlin

Well... I can't get the text color changes to work... so its labled flashback. If anyone knows how to get the damn font color changes working, please tell me... Used to BBS not HTML...

* * *

Ean tapped the leather steering wheel as he waited in the heavy New York City traffic. He absolutely hated it. Even at night, there were so many bloody people. He sighed, as the light turned green, and the cars in front of his slowly began to move forward.

His katana was in the back seat of the Charger along with his trench coat. He had taken them off while waiting for one of the many lights to change. He now sat at the wheel, trying to get back to his house that also served as his antique shop. He chuckled. Most immortals started antique shops. It was the easiest way for them to explain all of the items that they collected throughout the years. That's why there were so many… Every Immortal eventually got that idea it seemed like.

"Ah, come on already…" he muttered as the car in front of him slowed down, letting the stop light change to red. He sighed. "I guess this is as good a time as any…" he muttered to himself, grabbing the black cell phone that was on the passenger seat. He flipped the cover up, and held down the number two button until it dialed. He brought the phone up to his ear, and waited.

The phone rang four times before a voice cut into the dial tone. "Hey, this is Kudo."

"Excellent! It's been awhile Jim, hasn't it?" Ean asked, excitement plainly audible in his voice.

"I can't pick up the phone right now. You know the drill. Leave a message," the recording of Jimmy Kudo said.

Ean sighed as the message ran. After the beep, he started to speak. "Jimmy, this is Ean. Remember that offer? Well, I'd like to take you up on that. Call my cell whenever you get this Jim." He closed the cell phone, and threw it back into the passenger seat.

Jimmy Kudo was one of Ean's oldest friends. He had met him in the mid fifteenth century in Britain. Why Jim was in Britain, and with a sakabato, a katana that had its blade on the opposite side, was anyone's guess. Ean and Jim had met each other because of the Buzz, and were relieved when neither had wanted to fight, just to see who was causing the feeling.

They had become friends quiet quickly. Jimmy was also a wanderer, and it was obvious that he had spent most of his life in the Far East by his mannerisms. But, he did not look Asian in the slightest. Where he was born and how old he was remains a mystery to all but him. But, it was believed that he is the oldest Immortal still within the Game.

Ean couldn't believe he had survived as long as he had. When he had found out that he was an Immortal, he had been a pacifist and a priest in training. That all changed once Caitlin had entered his life….

-------------------------

((Flashback))

Ean sat at his wooden desk in his small room within the Cathedral. He was in Constantinople, the capital of what was then known as the Romanian Empire. Now it was known as the Byzantine Empire.

He sat, studding many religious texts. He was to become a priest within the Cathedral soon, and he needed to be as knowledgeable as possible. It was the year 1204, and Ean had been inside the church for most of his 21 years of life.

A knock on his thick door made him rise, as he straightened his long black cassock. His room was small, only holding a bed, a desk, and a small table with a basin of water sitting on top. Books and loose papers were stacked chaotically within his room. They filled up most of the floor space, and half of the small bed.

The knock repeated itself, a bit louder. "I come." Ean said, avoiding the large stacks of books to get to the door. He gripped the ordinate iron doorknob, and swung the door open.

His brows raised in surprise. "Erm… yes? What is it that you need or require?" A girl, who looked the age of twenty if he was right, stood before him, her bluish-gray eyes cast down on the floor. Se brought a up a small hand to brush her long blond, almost silver hair out of her face before looking up at Ean. "Father? If I may step inside?" She asked, tilting her head slightly to the left.

Ean hurriedly moved out from in front of the door, motioning for the young woman to step inside. "I am not yet a priest, my lady…. But… if you still wish to speak?" he said. She smiled at him before entering the room, her divided green skirts rustling softly.

Ean walked back to his desk, settling himself to look at the girl as she looked at him as if to ask to sit on his bed. He nodded. She smiled softly at him, before sitting down.

She was quite beautiful. She was clothed in a green traveling dress, slight blue embroidery running up her sleeves and sides. She slowly took off her green dusk cloak, laying it beside her. She looked modest, the neck of her dress going high under her chin in a style that Ean had never seen before, although… her dress did fit her form a touch too much around her bosom and hips… Ean shook his head, and focused on the bundle of books and papers in her left hand.

"Excuse me… I thought that you would be a priest by now, Ean Michael Farrell." She said, her voice melodious. He had never heard a voice nor accent quite like hers either.

Ean held up a hand. "Oh, that is quite alri…" He trailed off, as her words connected in his head. How had she known his full name? His full name was in the directories, true, but only those with permission from the Archbishop could access them. Only his last name was ever used or known within the Cathedral. "How… how do you know my name?"

She smiled at him, before putting the bundle of books she had brought next to her on the bed. "Oh, I know just about everything there is to know about you, Ean." She said, spreading her skirts about her. "Have you found your mother yet?" she asked, almost casually.

Ean stared at her, wide eyed. After a few moments, he started slowly, "I don't know what you are…." She cut him off.

"Oh, don't lie to me. Your mother was kidnapped not but a mile outside of the city while you were six. You were attacked as you both tried to reach the capital between raids. The city guards had just been though the area. You were tossed aside as the men took your mother. The landing knocked you unconscious. When you awoke… no one was in site. You continued to the capital, desperate for someone to help you find your mother. But, you could not speak after the attack. One of the priests took you into the Cathedral. You did not start to speak until you were about eleven. None of the priests asked why you came alone. All they know is that it left you unable to speak." She didn't look up at him. "See?"

With each word, Ean's eyes had grown wider. He just simply stared at her for a few minutes. "Ho… How did you know all of this!" he almost demanded. He had not told anyone of that, not even the priest who had taken him in, now the Archbishop Procyk!

She looked up at him and smiled playfully, before standing up and walking closer to where he sat. Ean pushed himself back away from her. "Because…" she said, coming closer to him, "I follow as many of the actions of other Immortals as I can."

Ean scooted his chair further away from her, until the chair hit the wall behind him. "This… this is ridiculous!" he scoffed, standing up from the chair. "There is no human who is immortal!"

The girl grinned as a knife appeared in her hand, hidden somewhere within her sleeve. Ean raised his hands as the girl flourished the blade. He opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance. With a smile, the girl slammed the knife into her chest.

Ean could only stare as crimson began to quickly appear on her dress and as she fell limply to the floor. He was frozen for a few moments, before he could shake himself and ran to the door. He was slowed by both the many books on the ground and the woman's body in the middle of the floor. He reached the door, and was about to fling it open and call for help, as a voice behind him said. "No."

Ean turned slowly, his eyes wide. The girl was slowly and shaking pushing herself up off of the ground, the knife lying in a small puddle of blood. He rushed over to her, to help bring her to her feet. She waved him off, before getting to her feet, and straightening her dress. "Who… or what in God's name are you?" he asked her quietly.

She smiled softly at him, before picking up the knife and wiping the blood off on a rag in her sleeve, returning them both to it. "My name is Caitlin Keiran… and I am what you shall be… an Immortal."

----------------------------------

((End Flashback))

A long series of beeps from the car behind him brought Ean back to the present. The stoplight had turned green, and he needed to go though it. He pressed down on the accelerator, thinking about her.

Caitlin had explained to him much. She had told him why she had looked so young, even when she was really almost a hundred. She explained how Immortals stopped aging after they got their first mortal wound that should have killed them. She also told him how she had known that he was an Immortal, even though he had not died yet. Half of him believed her, and the other half of him laughed at the crazy things she seemed to tell him.

Everyday she had visited him for hours at a time, teaching him about the Immortals, about the Game. She warned him of those, both human and Immortals, which would try and kill him once they knew what he was. The books she had brought with her were full of stories and 'proof' of what she was telling him.

He listened intently to her every time she came, but that did not lessen the amount of doubt he had of what she was saying. If anything, half of him believed her to be possessed by the devil. Yet… he didn't want her to leave.

His doubt was soon dismissed however. For, after two weeks of Caitlin's visits, on the eve of his becoming a priest, he found himself brutally thrust into the Game.

-------------------------------------

((Flashback))

Caitlin pulled the door shut behind her as she entered Ean's room, smoothing her wool blue divided skirts. She eyed him warily. "Are you sure that you wish to do this? I have told you… they are becoming suspicious… I believe they have been listening into our conversations." She urged.

Ean smiled, looking up from the book on his desk. "They would not do that. They are my family! They believe what I have told them. You are my sister, who visits me to help me study and encourage me as I train to become a priest." He stood, his black cassock covering his feet. "Besides, my duties to God come before most else."

Caitlin sighed, moving a strand of hair behind her ear. "I wouldn't be too sure…" she stared, before Ean's door flew open.

Ean slammed his hands on the desk. "What is the meaning of this!" Ean shouted outraged as one of his fellow priests in training, a Brother, lowered his foot, grinning. He flew into the room, and grabbed one of the books on Ean's bed.

"Here is all the proof that you will require, Archbishop." Brother Eric said in his nasally voice.

Ean's eyes widened in horror. The Archbishop was standing outside his room, dressed in his ceremonious white cassocks, heavy gold embroidery running up and down it, a large three barred cross hanging on a thick chain around his neck.

Ean looked at the book that was now in the Archbishop's hands, his worst fear realized. It was one of the books that Caitlin had brought, and it explained about the Immortals, and their powers.

Ean sunk into his chair, his eyes downcast. Caitlin was in likewise horror. She looked at Ean, before moving for the small window in the back of the room.

The Archbishop looked up from the book, and seeing the woman run for the window, yelled, "Stop her!" Eric grinned, a knife appearing in his hands as he ran at Caitlin. "Not like that!" Procyk yelled.

The knife stayed in the Brother's hand as he raced towards Caitlin, murder on his mind.

Ean's chair flew back as Caitlin hit the window opened. Ean stood, fire in his eyes, as he stepped in front of Eric's path. "You. Will. Not. Touch. Her." He said simply.

The Brother snarled. "Get out of my way, blasphemer!" Eric snarled, jamming the knife into Ean's stomach. Ean's eyes widened as his body bent forward. He coughed, blood flowing from his mouth.

"No!" both sides of the room seemed to shout. Ean could not tell which was up or down, let alone who had yelled. All he knew was he was dieing… He guessed he'd find out if Caitlin was telling the truth or not. He just hoped she had made it out. He laughed, causing more blood to emerge from his mouth._I guess I have fallen in love…_he thought, as his vision faded into darkness.

-------------------------------

To Ean's surprise, he could feel his body. He would have rather been dead. He raised a hand to his eyes, and rubbed.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings, and gasped. He was laid out in a wooden coffin, the lid of which was propped. He turned his head, and saw the Archbishop looking down at him.

He should have been dead. That was all there was too it. He had been stabbed in a vital place in his stomach, and he should have died. Why hadn't he? Unless… The little doubt he had about Caitlin's story faded away from him.

"So… it is true." The voice of the Archbishop startled Ean. "You are not dead." Ean looked up at the Archbishop, fearing the very worst "Many think that you have been possessed by Satan, you Ean Farrell…"

Ean sat up and touched his cassock's collar, surprised that it was white, but ignoring the fact. Finding his cross, he held it up. "I am not…" he started, but the Archbishop interrupted him.

"I… on the other hand… I believe that God is not yet done with you…. You have not enacted the role that He has set up for you to enact…" Procyk smiled, touching Ean's shoulder. "I believe you and your… sister… to have roles to play as of yet… that no one, not even yourself, understands."

Ean sat in the coffin, stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that once more, he could not.

Procyk just smiled. "I see you have lost your voice once more…" He stood, his old face still smiling, a small hat covering his gray hair. "It is not safe for you to be in this Cathedral any longer… no matter how much it saddens me. Far too many believe the worst. If they find you alive…" He shook his head. "They are fools. I am shipping you and your coffin outside of the city for burial. You must go somewhere away from the city… They will be at your funeral, so you must escape before then… You will leave in an hour… You have been out for two days, so I have brought food." He motioned to a tray sitting on a chair besides the one he had been sitting in.

Ean couldn't believe it. The Archbishop… was helping him? Even after saving him, he figured that after what had happened… Tears had begun to well up in him, as he bowed his head to show Procyk his thanks.

"I remember you coming to the church… I tried to be like a father to you Ean Michael… I'm sorry for not being around. May God be with you to watch you, and to protect you." Procyk hugged Ean, tears leaking from his own eyes, before leaving the small room.

---------------------------------------

((End Flashback))

The cell phone rang next to Ean as he pulled next to his shop. He quickly grabbed it, and flipped the cover open.

A familiar voice greeted him. "Ean? This is Kudo. You there?" Jimmy Kudo said in an accent that was just like Ean's; accept his voice was slightly deeper.

Ean smiled ear to ear. "Yeah, its Farrell. Its good to hear from you, my friend."

"Ean, I don't have long. There's been a Buzz since I got here… But, are you sure you want out of the Game?"

Ean's smile turned grim. "Jim, I am so tired of this… I just want out of this Game… Nothing in this world would make me happier."

Jim chuckled. "I can think of one thing…." He paused, his voice turning serious. "Not a thing… a woman, actually."

Ean sighed, leaning back against his seat. "Please don't go there Jim… Caitlin is dead… just… don't talk about her."

* * *

Well, it's a week late. There were many circumstances that I couldn't control… anyways, I'll update a rant later. Too tired, and I'm not even supposed to be on right now. Ee. 


End file.
